Hey everyone, megamusclboi here. Half my youtube followers seem to think I should have a blog, so here it is. I’m not sure exactly what format I want to use, so I’ll probably experiment a bit at first. It’ll probably mostly just be my thoughts on living as a muscle giant and some anecdotes from my life. I plan to have a Q&A session at some point though, so you can look forward to that. I’ll formally ask for questions beforehand, so start brainstorming some good ones now. I’ll try to cover the basics in these first couple posts. Oh, and I have a couple friends who have already volunteered to write guest posts, so you may get to see an outside perspective on my life.
Okay, so I guess I should start with an introduction for the people who aren’t familiar with my youtube account. My name is Andrew Clemmons, but everyone calls me Drew. Remember a few years back when 60 Minutes did that story on the twelve year old kid who was six feet tall and built like Michael Phelps? Yeah, that was me. I’m 17 and I’m still growing. They still haven’t come up with a name for my condition, but apparently I’m a scientific miracle. I automatically build muscle without really trying, and unlike most people who grow to be seven or eight feet tall, I’m perfectly proportional. Actually, I’m beyond proportional now. Check out my youtube channel if you haven’t yet. I’ve been documenting my muscle growth. According to my best friend Trevor, I’ve already passed into muscle god territory. And my doctor doesn’t think my growth spurt is done yet. If you haven’t guessed already, I stick out like a sore thumb, and my life is kind of a spectacle. So that’s mostly what I’ll be writing about. I have to give my parents some real credit though. They’ve been really protective of me and haven’t let all the science guys turn me into some sort of experiment. A couple labs have samples of my DNA, but no one gets to do tests on me. If I want to show off, that’s my business though, and my parents don’t try to stop me. Granted, no one wants to try to stop a nine foot tall muscle man, but my parents genuinely care about letting me live my own life.
Alright, so did I cover the basics? I’m Drew, I’m 17, and I’m the world’s tallest man and still growing. I don’t usually weight myself because my weight keeps fluctuating. I mean, sometimes I wake up in the morning with 5 or 10 extra pounds of muscle. Trevor and my other buddy Luke like to help me check my measurements in my videos, so I guess that’s another reason for you to go to my youtube channel. Oh yeah, anyone who’s seen my videos has seen my bulge under my shorts. Yes, that’s all real, and no I’m not telling you how big it is. Maybe I’ll tell in the Q&A session. Maybe. Back to the muscles. My mass and my height seem to be the main interest for people. I guess I’ll go ahead and give a quick rundown of my stats. As of two weeks ago, I’m 9’2”. Luke says my biceps are almost the size of my head when I flex, and I don’t think that’s much of an exaggeration. My doctor says my shoulders are proportionally 1.3 times as wide as the average guy’s, and that’s just my skeletal structure. When you factor in my muscles, I look even wider. I have a 44” waist, but my doctor says it’s the equivalent of a 30” waist for a person of normal height. My lats are getting pretty wide too, so I’ve got a crazy taper from my shoulders down to my waist. I guess I should say something about my pecs too. I’m sure they’ll come up as I describe my life more. I mean, they’re totally awesome, but they kind of get in the way. Last time Trevor did measurements, they stuck out 9.5” from the top of my abs. I really don’t know how else to describe my body. Just check out my videos. If a picture’s worth a thousand words, a video must be worth like ten thousand, right?
Okay, the basic description ended up longer than I expected. Well, I guess I’ll write a bit about my daily life now. It all seems pretty boring and standard to me. I’m so used to living my life like this that it’s hard to remember that not everyone shares my experiences. My family has a decent amount of money, which is good because my parents were able to move into a place with high ceilings when I was 13. I’ve had to duck through doorways since I was 15, and my shoulders have been wider than most doorframes for like a year now. We’re about to get an addition built on our house because I’m outgrowing my bedroom. I’m only ten inches away from being as tall as our “high” ceilings, so I’m going to get a room where everything’s proportioned for me. I’ll still have to duck in the rest of the house, but it will be nice to have a larger space for myself. You should see me at school. I look ridiculous next to all that kid-sized stuff. But I’ll get to that more later.
To all the people who have asked, yes I do own shirts. Come on though, if you were as big as me, you wouldn’t like wearing them either. And I don’t just mean because it’s hot to see all those bulging muscles all the time. It totally is though. The clothing issue is really all about logistics. I mean, I grew like eight inches and who knows how many pounds this past year. My clothes look like small tents, and I still outgrow them regularly. So it’s easier just not to wear them. And seriously, it’s hard to pull my shirts over my pecs. The fabric gets all bunched up and it’s just a huge hassle. I tried getting the school to let me come in shirtless, but they wouldn’t do it. At home I just stick to shorts or boxer briefs though. I would just walk around naked, but I think my friends would all faint. Even the straightest guy seems to get all googly-eyed when he sees my cock. Heck, they get googly-eyed just from seeing my muscles. They start salivating when they see my cock. And they tend to get hard too. Changing for gym class is always an interesting experience because all the guys start getting boned, and then I start getting boned, and then they’re not changing, they’re just boned and staring at me, and then the teacher has to snap them to attention and they all still have raging hard-ons when we leave the locker room. And of course then I’m totally hard, and a little bit of fabric doesn’t exactly hide my erection, and no I’m not going to tell you how big it is. Not yet at least. Anyway, then the guys start staring at the tent in my shorts, and my muscles get all pumped because we’re exercising for an hour, and half the guys stay totally boned and totally distracted for the whole class.
Well, I guess that’s a good segue into school. Gym class is hardly the only awkward part of my day. At least the gym has a really high ceiling. Between classes, I always feel like I’m taking up the whole hallway, and the classrooms are even worse. All my classes have a big cushion in the back corner of the room, and I have this big wood plank that I rest on my lap as use as my desk. When I sit on the floor I’m still as tall as all the kids at their desks. I’ve got this massive computer keyboard that they keep in the school library for when I have to type stuff. I mean, with the size of my hands I can hardly use a regular keyboard. Regular keyboards are only the size of my phone. Well, my phone is technically a tablet. I’m lucky tablets exist now. I’m pretty sure I would have broken one of those old flip phones within a week.
Let’s see, what else can I say about school? School is where I met Luke. Trevor and I have been friends forever, but I met Luke freshman year. At first I thought he was just one of those kids who get all boned in gym class and only want to get to know me because they think I’m hot. Well, maybe he was that way at first. The thing is, he’s genuinely cool. He had just come out as gay, and he was very open about it. He kept apologizing for accidentally being flirty, and it was actually funny and kind of cute. He’s a little obsessive about my muscles, but it’s nice to have such a dedicated admirer. But seriously he’s also just a good friend. He started playing video games with me and Trevor, and he just instantly became one of the guys. I just hope I haven’t screwed up his ability to find a guy. I mean, he’s never going to find a guy who’s as big as me. And that’s not just my vanity talking, it’s a simple fact. Although Luke says he loves it when I get all vain. I start flexing for myself in the mirror. And don’t try to say you wouldn’t love your body if you looked like me. I’m huge, I’m powerful, it’s awesome. And I’m only going to get bigger.
Okay, I feel like I’m just rambling here. I guess that’s all for now. Let me know what you think of the blog in the comments section. I’ll try to take suggestions and improve. I’m still figuring out what I should talk about. Until next time, I’m out.
I have to start by thanking everyone for the positive feedback. I know people love staring at my muscles, but I honestly had doubts as to whether people would actually want to listen to me talk about my life. Well, you’re reading, not listening, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m excited to see where this goes. That said, I need to lay some ground rules. Only I can decide how personal I will get and when and how I will share more intimate details about my life. If you pester me, it will only make me less interested in sharing. Your questions help me decide what to write about, but they may or may not get answered. I’ll make a big announcement when I’m about to do a Q&A so you can send me your questions. Also, please know that anything I say about my friends is screened through them, so I’m not violating their privacy. Trevor proofreads all this stuff before I post it anyway. Speaking of Trevor, you’ll get to learn a bit more about him today, and he’s already coming up with ideas for what to write when he does a guest post in the future.
Okay, so the other night my family went out to dinner and it was a perfect example of how my life turns into a spectacle. We hardly ever go out to eat, actually. It’s not that it’s a bad experience, it’s just a hassle. And I’ll admit that my own vanity tends to play into things. So the other night we went to this one restaurant where we know I’ll fit at this one corner booth because we can move the table so I’ll have leg room. Imagine having to eat every meal at a kiddy table. That’s basically my life. Anyway, we got seated and the waiter was this cute guy who must be a college kid. He’s got this baby face that makes him look my age, and he’s got this very in shape, long, lean body. I’m betting he’s a dancer or something. Not that that has anything to do with the story. But anyway he caught my attention and I definitely caught his. If it were a cartoon I would have had to help him scoop his jaw off the floor. And there would have been giant stars in his eyes. And there probably would have been a big puddle of drool in front of him. He did a decent job of gathering himself, and I didn’t want to destroy his concentration for the rest of his shift, so I tried to behave. But then I reached forward to pick up my menu and I heard a pop come from the seam where the sleeve connected at the shoulder. I’m vain, and I have a devious mind, so my resolve lasted about half a second.
I begrudgingly wear shirts in public, but they have an annoying tendency to start ripping at the shoulders. Given my size, people generally just accept that it probably can’t be helped. Well, that particular day I probably could have prevented further issues by carefully controlling my movements, but I decided to have some fun instead. I flexed my right tricep and deltoid and jerked my arm forward just a little. I could hear the fabric tear as a little gap appeared at the back of my shoulder. Then I flexed all the muscles in my left shoulder as hard as I could, and that seam popped too. When the waiter came to take our order, I could hear him start breathing louder as he realized I was hulking out of my clothes. If that distraction wasn’t enough, my order totally caught him off guard. My appetite is one of the big reasons we don’t go out to eat much. You don’t get to be my size without eating a ton of food. I ordered two entrees plus two appetizers. I got the heartiest things on the menu too, because I need tons of protein and carbs.
By the time I had ordered, the waiter’s brain was already fried, so I figured I would just keep going further. Throughout the meal I periodically flexed, so the little holes in my shirt gradually grew bigger and bigger. The waiter kept making excuses to come by our table so he could see my massive body. I was totally loving it. My dad knew exactly what I was doing, and he gave me a silent reprimand with his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. By the time I ordered dessert the whole back half of my right sleeve was coming off, and practically my whole left trapezius was peeking through the hole on that side. Right when we were about to leave, I casually stretched my arms up as if I don’t know my shirt totally couldn’t handle it. Both sides tore under the arms, and the right sleeve just popped right off. The seam finally just burst, and then the sleeve ripped apart starting at the bulkiest part of my bicep.
My dad shot me a warning look, but I just stood up as if nothing had happened. The waiter looked like he was going to faint. By that time I was really starting to get off on showing off for the waiter, and my dick was coming to life. It already looks like I’ve got a basketball in my shorts when I’m soft, so getting hard in public is seriously not fun. I mean, I love it when everyone stares at me, but it’s awfully inconvenient, and it’s kind of inappropriate if my parents are standing right there. So there I was with my cock straining my shorts, and I could see the waiter’s hard-on through his pants, and all I could do was just kind of hurriedly shuffle toward the door and squeeze myself through. Still, I figured I might as well offer the waiter one last show. He had been really helpful even when he was totally dazed. And did I mention he was totally cute? So the moment I was out the door I hit a crab pose, and I could feel my shirt just tearing away from my body, and I could almost feel the waiter’s eyes on my huge back. I turned around just long enough to see the big wet spot on the waiter’s pants. My dad looked like he was finally about to say something, but he just shook his head and walked to the van.
So there you have it. That’s basically how eating out tends to go for me. Actually, going to the mall usually spurs a similar series of events. I can’t help it. When strangers start staring at me, I feel a need to show off. I guess that’s why school isn’t too bad. Everyone knows me there. Like in gym class, I accidentally show off just by playing the games. It’s no fun to tease those guys when they all know me, and they already know they’re going to spend the whole class boned. Besides, it’s kind of weird knowing half those guys probably go home and jack off thinking about me. I mean, it’s totally flattering, but it’s still weird, you know? It’s much cooler when it’s a stranger. Like an hour ago they didn’t know I existed, and now they can’t get my body out of their head. That’s totally awesome.
Okay, so before I talk about Trevor I need to rectify an issue from my last entry. When I talked about my stats I didn’t say anything about my lower body, and apparently that was a grievous error. I don’t even know how many messages I got about that. Guys, you see my legs every week in my videos. You know what they look like. Well, let’s see, what can I say? My thighs are getting close to the size of my waist. I actually hope they don’t get too much bigger. I don’t want to be one of those musclebound guys whose legs are so huge they can hardly walk straight. People like to comment on how long my legs are as if the rest of me isn’t just as long. I guess they look extra long because of my proportions. It’s kind of cool, I guess. Sorry to all the foot people out there, but I have no idea what size shoes I wear. Shaquille O’Neal wears size 22, right? And I know my feet are way bigger than that. I don’t really like wearing shoes anyway. My mom found this guy who makes custom flip flops for me. She’s dreading the upcoming winter because I’ll have to get custom boots made and she’s convinced the cost will be through the roof. Well, my doctor says my feet are almost twice as long as the average person’s and about twice as wide. I thought that sounded weird since I’m not twice as tall as the average person, but he said something about how ankles are fragile and the base of a structure has to increase more in order to support the increased weight, like the base of a pyramid compared to the height. I don’t know. I’m sure I’ve learned about whatever he was talking about, but I tend to zone out in math and science classes. I do know that my feet are almost as long as Trevor’s and Luke’s put together. They both seemed to think that was really awesome when we tested it.
Alright, I guess it’s time to talk about Trevor. We were next door neighbors from the time we were born, and we were only born two weeks apart. Our moms used to say we were practically twins. We’ve always looked really different though. You know what I look like from my videos. Strawberry blond, super pale skin, blue eyes, strong chin, light dusting of reddish hair on my body, especially my chest. Trevor’s the exact opposite. Naturally tanned skin, nearly black hair, big brown eyes, bold nose. Somehow, even though he’s got a thick mop of fast-growing unruly hair on his head, his body is practically devoid of hair except for a thin treasure trail. Of course now we look totally different just because I dwarf everyone around me. He’s grown to be pretty tall in his own right though. Sometimes I actually feel bad for him that I’m his best friend. I mean, he’s 6’3” with a toned, lanky body, and he’s starting to get really handsome, but all people ever notice is the guy standing next to him. Trevor insists that he doesn’t mind, but I still feel kind of bad. He deserves a lot more attention than he gets.
To be honest, I’m just glad Trevor didn’t ditch me when I started growing. I was only 10 or 11 when I started getting really tall, and it kind of freaked me out. I hadn’t started putting on much muscle yet, and the school bullies loved to pick on me because I stood out. Then I started gaining muscle too and everyone got all intimidated. I seriously thought I was going to lose all my friends. But Trevor was always cool with me. Sometimes he would talk about how cool I looked, but then we would just settle in on the couch and start playing Mario Kart. He used to joke that that was the one time he had an advantage over me. Seriously, he will totally destroy you as Toad.
I got really worried that I would freak Trevor out when puberty hit full swing. I started getting hard all the time, and I was already big enough that I couldn’t exactly hide a boner. He was really cool with it, though. He just took it in stride. We started mostly hanging out at my place because we could play video games in the den and I would go into my room to rub one out if I had to. And don’t try to tell me I was just using an excuse to jack off all the time. I seriously get blue balls if I don’t get off for six or eight hours. It was even worse a year of two ago. Usually I can manage to deal with it during school, but in the afternoon I’ll be right in the middle of hanging out with Trevor, and suddenly I’ll be rock hard, like painfully hard, and I won’t be able to ignore it. Like I said though, Trevor’s totally cool about it. He loves to joke about it and say I’m walking around with a miniature Old Faithful in my pants.
When I started working out and making youtube videos, I knew Trevor had to help me out. We do everything together, and I knew he wouldn’t want to miss out on seeing me get all pumped and sweaty. It’s kind of hilarious the way his eyes glaze over sometimes when I’m working out. I mean, I’d expect it from someone like Luke, but Trevor’s different. We’re so close that I kind of forget how much smaller he is than me. Well, now you know all about by best friend. I’m not sure what I’ll write about next time, but I’m sure I’ll have plenty of new stories for you by then. In the meantime, subscribe to my youtube if you haven’t already! You know you want to see me flex and get huge. Well, more huge. That’s terrible grammar, isn’t it? Whatever, I’m not going to change it. Until next time, I’m out.
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